Mirror
by Ashamed-Spider
Summary: Hermione peers into the Mirror of Erised to see what she wants. But there is still something missing...


**Mirror**

**Ashamed-Spider**

She stared long, long and hard at the mirror in front of her. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, her arms stretched behind her to rest her body on. Images swirled over the glass, her reflection distorted as they blurred into each other.

She saw Harry, and Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys, sitting at the table with the rest of the Order, eating Christmas Dinner. Sirius was cracking one joke after another, his paper pat, oh so muggle-like, perched at an angle on his head. He said something that Hermione didn't hear, and the whole table lit up in laughter. Lupin spat his drink everywhere, and Albus Dumbledore chuckled into his own drink. Next to him, professor McGonagall laughed openly, turning her head slightly to smile warmly at the headmaster. Tonk's hair changed colour, and as for herself, the version of her in the damned mirror, she laughed and glanced over at Ron. He was too busy eating to see her smile, too wrapped up in Lavender Brown to notice her advances. Oh, he had wanted her when they were in school. But it was because he had needed a friend to warm his bed at night.

The image changed again, to another image she wanted the most. The Mirror never usually did that. Perhaps she was special.

She was standing in a field, alone, darkness falling around her. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up on end, shivering slightly against the cold. She tilted her head back suddenly, and opened her mouth, letting out a silent, feral scream. Three people apparated in front of her.

All three were dressed in black robes, hoods pulled up to cover their faces along with masks. She stopped screaming and smirked, pulling out her own wand to duel them. She was good at it. The mirror made her better than she actually was; it was what she wanted the most, she remembered.

The hexes had been flung fast and hard, and she could tell her mirror form was growing tired. She sent her shield out to pass over the Death Eaters, knocking two to the floor. The other crouched down to counteract it, but his hood fell down. It was professor Snape. His dark eyes locked on hers and he smirked, commenting on her ability. Hermione couldn't hear it. The other two, she recognised as Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, hurriedly got to their feet and cursed again. Her timing was too slow, and as the curses barrelled towards her, she felt something step behind her and then saw a figure move in front, dispelling the attacks with a casual flick.

She could feel the Death Eater's fear, with the mild exception of Snape. He hadn't tried to attack her when she had no defences.

She backed away from the mirror. She had seen enough.

Hermione left the chamber, traversing along the corridor silently, her own robe swishing in the darkened passage. She knew the layout fairly well, having been in there long enough. She stepped over the threshold of the last room down a deserted corridor and entered the room, warmth contrasting with the coldness of the corridor.

She stood in the middle of the room, next to a protruding bookcase and a seat moved haphazardly as if hurrying to move. It was where she had been sitting.

"Been busy?" A voice whispered from behind her. She shivered.

"Yes, my Lord. I was… pre-occupied with the Mirror of Erised. I have to enquire as to how you got it."

Voldemort stepped past her, gracefully. His pale skin seemed to glow in front of the fire, ruby red eyes reflecting the flames. He turned his gaze to the bookcase that separated the bedroom to the library. His hand raised and a long, inhumanly slender finger grazed along the book spines, pulling out a thick tome that he hadn't finished reading.

"After Dumbledore removed it from Hogwarts, Severus tracked it down for me, knowing I had always had a fascination with the mirror. He always was a loyal servant…"

The war had been brutal. After Snape had defected from the Light and Voldemort had essentially gained control over Hogwarts, Hermione, Ron and Harry had gone on the run to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes in the hopes of rendering him mortal and killing him. It hadn't worked. After Ron left them, leaving Harry and Hermione by themselves, they had moved from place to place. They accidentally used Voldemort's name, now a taboo, and Snatchers had appeared to take them. They fled, but Hermione was captured. Harry had also been captured, and they stood in the clearing until the very man that Hermione hated apparated, and he had laughed at Harry. He sent a killing curse at the boy, but he still didn't die. Voldemort was confused. He attacked Harry again, firing hexes at him –including Crucio- before finally putting him out of his misery with another Avada Kedavra. Ron had decided to apparate to their location, and was caught by the Snatchers, who killed him without thinking. Hermione was alone.

However, Lord Voldemort had taken pity on Hermione. Although he had labelled her a mudblood and had sent all manner of nasty words her way, he admitted he had a use for her.

She was transferred back to Voldemort's personal manor, and was made to be his mistress.

Initially, she hated it. She rebelled whenever she could, even forcing Voldemort to force-feed her, eventually using the Imperious Curse on her to get her to co-operate.

He allowed her outside where she struck up a duel with one Severus Snape. They had attacked each other until they were close to dying, and had fixed each other's injuries. Tom Riddle had been furious at Snape for allowing it to happen, but Hermione thanked the Dark Lord instead, for allowing her a moment of freedom.

Eventually, she found herself gravitating towards the snake-man. He was intelligent and curious, and he had never raised a hand against her or attacked her.

In actual fact, he had treated her like an equal, which was unheard of.

"Come, Hermione. Tell me what you saw."

She sat on his lap as he read the book, recounting her memory of her last Christmas Dinner with the members of the Order. Although the Death Eaters had a similar practise, it was less terse with the Order. Formalities were a must with the servants of Voldemort.

When she informed him of the battle between Lucius, Snape and Rodolphus, he commented, telling her that she should do something similar.

"What else did you see?"

"I didn't, my lord. But I have been dreaming of… something."

His silent question caused her to worry her bottom lip. "I am twenty now. And I know that under normal circumstances, you would not allow the Death Eaters to do this sort of thing… But I am desperate."

As Voldemort shifted underneath her, moving her into a loving embrace, she looked up at him.

"My Lord…" She tilted her head up and kissed him. It was an everyday occurrence for them, they were technically married. Even if they hadn't signed a piece of paper, they were bound to each other in a way that no one else could understand. Even Bellatrix had gotten the message after Voldemort attacked her for talking about Hermione.

"What do you require, my child? I will endeavour to find it for you."

"You can't find it." She sighed, snuggling into his warm embrace. "I yearn for a child, my Lord. One of my own flesh and blood."

Voldemort pondered, eyes flicking over the silver and black features in the room. His eyes rested on the bed before moving, and shifting back again.

"You wish for a child with whom? I shall be willing for another Death Eater to impregnate you, if you so require it."

Hermione blushed and shook her head vigorously, "I want your child my Lord. I know you are adverse to children, especially after banning Bellatrix and Rodolphus… But I love you, and I want your child."

He sat in silence again, book slack in his hand. His eyes were hard on Hermione's chocolate brown ones, and she saw emotions flicker through them, however fleeting.

"Is it what you so desire?"

She nodded, sitting up slightly.

"Why didn't the Mirror inform you so?"

"I… I don't know, Lord."

"Hmmm."

His tone was unconcerned and uninterested. "If you wish for a child, Hermione, then you may receive one. I will help you with your motherhood dream, if you so insist. But they will be brought up being taught the Dark Arts."

"Only if they can learn potions."

"If you insist." Was his quick fire response. He stood up, dislodging the woman in his grasp. She stood, as he did, and watched as he slowly and surely stepped over to the bookcase and returned the book.

"I must admit, I am surprised. I didn't expect us to progress so quickly. It was only a year ago that I slaughtered your best friends."

She blushed. "I know. But after this… after we've spent so much time in each other's company, I've realised that I want you, and only you."

"Then that is enough." He whispered, rounding on her with sudden speed, picking her up and walking around the corner, to their shared bed. He kissed her deeply, running a tongue across her lip. She sighed and he slipped his tongue inside her, teasing her own tongue. Hermione's hands gripped at his shoulders as he deposited her on his bed, removing her clothing with a wave of his wand. He repeated the action on himself and settled himself back down over her.

"I would… like the idea of children with you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione smiled brightly, blushing slightly. "It's Hermione Riddle, Tom."

He smirked and attacked her mouth with his again.

The words of love would never be exchanged between them, they probably never will. But they cared enough for each other to watch their partner's back during hostile situations, to be gentle with others when the situation called for it, and to be comfortable around each other.

When their first child was born nine months later, a girl, Hermione found herself settling into a proper family. A year after, their second child – this time a boy- Voldemort, reverting to the name 'Tom' in Hermione's presence and hers only, seemed truly happy.

The man would never cry, he would never lean over a crib and speak baby talk to his children. But Hermione would catch him staring at his children when he thought she wasn't looking, and the look of surprise, shock, and happiness was enough to warm her heart. He would be there for them when they needed to be informed of a new spell or a change to the rules, and he would care for them like no other. Voldemort would not take part in the muggle raids like he did before, instead choosing to stay at the headquarters and simply read to his eldest daughter.

Only Hermione saw when he freaked out after his son grew ill from an infection, and he didn't sleep until he knew that he was safe. Voldemort… he would never admit it, but he loved his family, in a way that no one else would ever, ever understand. Hermione, for the first time in her life, felt truly cherished.

Too bad the Mirror of Erised never saw this.

* * *

Thank you for reading!

This came to me suddenly, and I had to write it. Sorry if it's not any good... D:


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